Spectator
by ShatteredHeart-BlueSapphire
Summary: He was a spectator, not a wallflower. He met her under questionable circumstances. They were different, they shouldn't socialize, they DIDN'T socialize. So, why and when did it happen? He watched her, but she never watched him. T just to be safe.


**DISCLAIMER! Everything you recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling!!!**

**A/N: ** I would like to dedicate this one-shot to _Adurna-Brisngr_. This reviewer wanted me to write a sequel to Unhappy Ending but I couldn't bring myself to do that, it'd be too angsty. So, instead I decided to write and post this. Here's to you _Adurna-Brisngr_ and anyone else who likes the Hermione/Draco pair!

***

Draco Malfoy watched her. He always did; it was all he could do. He watched with detached amusement at first. He watched the two boys that would later become her friends, shun her. He noticed, the day after the troll attack, the way Potter and Weasley were now friendly with her. He watched her later that year, the way she would chastises them, inform them, laugh with them, and how she would cheer for Potter whenever there was a Quidditch match. It was all he could do; watch her with a detached amusement.

Second year came and he noticed more about her, and he watched her with a detached interest. He noticed her wit, her intelligence, her need to prove herself worthy of being what she was. He watched and noticed the many hours she spent in the library, he heard of the points she earned her House for her willingness to answer what she felt sure of. He felt a little surprised at her capacity, very much like his own. He was surprised someone as lowly as her could have great intelligence.

He insulted her, really insulted her, for the first time without really wanting to. He did it because he had to, because it was expected of him. He watched her momentary look of confusion. Weasley tried to hex him, to stand up for the girl, and he didn't understand the strange feeling that felt almost like anger; he didn't understand why that inexplicable feeling went through him when he saw her reaction to the fact Weasley, her friend, had stood up for her. He saw the concern on her face when Weasley's hex backfired and for once she looked like she didn't know how to fix it.

He didn't understand why he felt shocked and the slightest bit of concern when he learned she had been petrified; it wasn't right, the most intelligent student in Hogwarts had been petrified. Why did he feel a little relieved when he saw her up and about and glaring at him? He didn't know the answer, but he continued to watch her with a detached interest.

He was thirteen when he saw her again. This year he watched her with detached admiration. He noticed this year she had a cat with her and he wondered why she had picked such an ugly cat. He watched her loyalty, her determination, and her protectiveness of her friends. He also bore her glares, her words, and her reactions toward him. Why did he feel a little hurt when she did that? He shouldn't feel that, not at all, he should feel hatred and disapproval.

She was in danger every hour she spent with Potter, so why did she do it? Why did he feel a little scared for her when he should be feeling content about it? He was shocked and surprised the day she hit him, and he couldn't rid of the little speck of hurt he felt. Truly he was more than surprised _she_, a Muggle-born, would dare to do that to someone like _him_, a pureblood. It was then he found out how bold she was, and yet, he continued to watch her with a detached admiration.

He continued to watch her fourth year with something that strongly resembled liking. He watched her with rapt attention during that Quidditch match and he was afraid she would get caught by his father and his companions. He was sure he wouldn't do anything about it if she were caught, but he did try to prevent her _from_ being caught, and he couldn't quite come up with a reason why he was doing it.

He watched closely, her shocked and scared expression when Potter's name was called to be one of the competitors in the Triwizard Tournament. He also saw the picture in the Daily Prophet of her hugging Potter before the first task and he felt a twinge of something he couldn't quite identify.

He watched her the night of the Yule Ball and he had to admit she looked splendid, very pretty, and he couldn't quite deny the little spark of jealousy he felt toward Krum. He also had to admit she waltzed nicely and couldn't help the little disappointment he felt at his own date.

When the second task came he felt a little fear when he found out she was in the lake. He watched how close she and Krum were and later he read the article in the Daily Prophet about her and her supposed "love triangle". He knew it was a lie, she didn't have feelings toward Potter, other than friendship, he knew that, it was quite obvious.

He saw her worry when the third task came and her tears when what really happened was revealed. He couldn't help but feel a little upset about the matter itself. He watched her with something that strongly resembled liking.

In fifth year he watched her with something that was really close to attraction. She was a prefect this year, like him, and he secretly admitted (rather reluctantly at that) she deserved it. He noticed how serenely she patrolled her area when he managed to get a glimpse of her. He observed the way she walked, with confidence, how alert she was and how observant. She looked as if determined, as if she knew, which was true, she was informed like she always had been.

She was caught at the end of the year, along with her friends and he felt a little disappointment that he was not the one to hold her captive. He would have held her tightly against him – to make sure she didn't get away of course. He didn't know what to feel when he heard her sobs as she gave in to Umbridge's queries. He felt a little worried and afraid for her when she went into the Forbidden Forest – the one he knew to be dangerous. Then her friends had managed to get away to join her.

He was surprised at how relieved he felt when he saw her back at school. He secretly felt a twinge of pride that the girl he was almost attracted to had managed to get out of the attack on the Ministry alive, after having to duel adults. Yes, he watched her with something that was really close to attraction.

When they were in sixth year he watched her with something that greatly resembled respect and care. She was still a prefect and he was sure she could make it to Head Girl. He didn't have so much time to watch her though because there was a task he _had_ to complete, even if he didn't want to do it. He worked hard and diligently but he still managed to watch her, if briefly. He would watch her at meal times and sometimes she would smile, laugh, or look as if she wanted to cry. Sometimes she looked serene, nervous, or worried. Sometimes he would see her angry – not at him. After some time he realized she fancied Weasley and felt a little jealousy for some unfathomable reason.

The day he got caught working late on his task he told Filch that he was a guest of Slughorn's Christmas party, so he was taken there. He saw her rather briefly and thought she looked beautiful. She was wearing a dress and he was able to see her nice, slim figure. Her hair actually looked nice, as opposed to her usual unruly hair, and her face looked beautiful with its nice features; her chocolate brown eyes, her thick eyelashes, her supple lips, her delicate nose. Then, he had been taken out.

Later that year, he caught a glimpse of her tired but determined face as she dueled on the night Dumbledore was killed. That year he had watched her with something that greatly resembled respect and care.

Seventh year he didn't, he couldn't watch her, because she was not in school, and neither were Potter and Weasley at that. Months later he saw her again, and wished she had fled the country. She looked quite unkept; her hair was worse than he remembered, she looked thinner, and her clothes were frumpy. The relief of knowing she was alive was short-lived because his aunt, Bellatrix, began torturing her. Her screams filled the room and inside he felt guilty. When she was curled up on the floor, whimpering, he felt hurt that someone as strong as her was vulnerable at the moment. As he looked at her he wondered why he had bothered to protect Potter's identity. Well, one reason was because as much as he didn't like Potter, he didn't want him dead, and also, while Potter was alive there was hope that the Dark Lord would be defeated. As he looked at the tortured girl he realized another reason he had done what he had. The shock of it almost sent him on the border of insanity. He realized he was in love with Hermione Granger and if one of her best friends were to die, it would pain her. He would never admit in words what he felt for her, and he was in no position to show her how he felt. However, he was immensely relieved that she and her friends managed to escape.

In the final battle, when Crabbe died in the Fiendfyre he ensued, their eyes locked rather briefly outside of the Room of Requirements, and a strange understanding passed through them. Of course she knew what loss felt like; she had lost people in the war after all.

He saw her duel in this war too, and she did so with fierceness and inner rage he could tell, but she dueled quite efficiently, as expected from her. He also watched her right after the war had ended. He saw her cry then over the deaths of her friends, and he felt guilty he had played a part in all that. As him and his parents left he realized he just might not see her again and that nothing could result of his feelings for her, even if there did come a day that they would interact.

It was nineteen years later that he saw her again. She had married, and he was married as well. She had married who she wanted, Ronald Weasley. He had married someone that was expected of him, a pureblood. His son looked most like him, and her children, especially her daughter looked quite like her. He smiled faintly; she had the same unruly hair, even with the ginger hair color, and her eyes were her mother's. He hoped their daughter had her mother's wits, just as his son had his. He looked their way, and Potter was the one who met his stare, and they nodded at each other. After another moment he looked again. He was rewarded when she was the one to meet his gaze and he felt his heart beat a little faster. He allowed his eyes to communicate what he felt for her, knowing he couldn't allow anyone else to know because it wasn't right; they were both married separately, and she loved her husband. However, her chocolate brown eyes softened toward him… and it meant almost everything to him.


End file.
